Mea Culpa…

When I resumed these blog posts, I made a promise to myself that I was going to be brutally honest, and vulnerable.  I truly believe that that is how you make connections with people.  I also want to push back against the perfect lives that are presented on social media. What you will get from me is the unvarnished truth. 

Well, it has been brought to my attention that I was not completely honest with you in last week’s post about Henry’s diet. So, with my apologies, here is the good, the bad, and the ugly, about what Henry digests in any given day. 

Babybels: the fast food of cheeses, he is a junkie. His momma doesn’t have the best record of preparing proper evening meals for herself, so she sometimes finds herself eating Babybels in bed at midnight. Henry, of course, takes half of them. He. Loves. Them. Half of my Costco bill sometimes is in Babybels alone. 

Paper products: an unguarded Kleenex or paper towel is a quick snack for Henry. He’s eaten tissues since the first weekend I brought him home. If the cats knock a cat food can off the counter, he steals it, licks out the insides, and eats the paper label. It may be his biggest source of fiber. 

Cat trees: he attacks the scratching posts, unraveling the rope that covers them, then he chews the cardboard supports. He’s done this to at least 3 trees in the year and a half he’s lived here. We have a couple right now that are literally on their last legs.

Drywall: this one seems to have stopped at the younger puppy stage, but there are several corners and doorframes that need drywall repair, or at least some spackle and paint.

Bookmarks: a new obsession, he has half-destroyed a laminated bookmark, and completely eaten a paper bookmark in the last week. He does not eat the tassels that are part of the bookmark. So far. 

Hair ties: if I leave one unattended, or drop one, he is on it. He’s much faster than me, so anything he grabs, I have no hope of retrieving. He does not seem to pass them, and trust me, I have examined his poop. They must just accumulate in his stomach.  I see a hefty bill in my future. 

Poop: cat poop from the litter boxes, random wildlife poop on our walks around the farm. The boy cannot get enough. If we’re sitting in the living room and he hears a cat in the litter box, he takes off like a shot, hoping for a fresh deposit. His nose sometimes looks like an old-school licorice allsort that my dad used to love – black, with little bits of kitty litter stuck to it. One of his nicknames is Poopy McPoopface. He’s so unbelievably gross. I was hoping it was just going to be a puppy thing, but nope. He is all about the poop. If you ever meet him, do not let him give you a kiss. He has undoubtedly just been eating poop. 

So there is the ugly truth. As much as I tried to pass myself off as the Martha Stewart of the doggo set last week, I am a neglectful momma who permits her dog to eat literal shit.  I am a fraud!

Forgive me!